


Fucking Love Potions

by CosmoKid



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Elf Grantaire, M/M, love potions, Éponine is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmoKid/pseuds/CosmoKid
Summary: Éponine makes love potions to try to get Enjolras and Grantaire together, it works but not in the way she expected.





	Fucking Love Potions

**Author's Note:**

> i saw a tumblr post okay

Enjolras has no idea what’s going on. 

His head is pounding from a hangover, all he wants to do is go back to bed and sleep it off, and instead he has Courfeyrac offering to buy him even more drinks on one side and Joly on the other side taking his temperature every other moment, mumbling something about not letting Enjolras die. 

And then there’s Bossuet who has brought him three separate bouquets of flowers in the past half hour and Musichetta who has sat there for the past hour rattling off pickup lines. Marius keeps stumbling and stuttering and has asked Enjolras to go and see about seven different films and check out at least ten cafes with him.

(And he’s fairly certain most of the films aren’t real and neither of the cafes. He knows for certain that Titanic is not playing in cinemas.)

Jehan is also dashing around the room, their pixie wings flapping behind them, stealing flowers from everywhere and making flower crowns to give to Enjolras. Enjolras doesn’t have the heart to say no so he’s currently wearing three different flower crowns. 

To add, there’s also Bahorel who had screeched “don’t touch him” at the bartender who was passing Enjolras a glass of water when they’d first arrived. He keeps jumping in between Enjolras and every single stranger. He doesn’t know what’s going on and he wants to cry.

And to top it off, Feuilly is sitting nearby just complimenting Enjolras on everything. And by everything, he means literally everything, Feuilly told him he took a great trip to the bathroom three-quarters of an hour ago. 

He’s confused and tired and he keeps having to mouth apologies to the bartender who seems to find the entire situation hilarious. He wants to go home. 

Or at least for Grantaire to come in, he could use his sarcastic commentary right now, at least it would make the situation entertaining. He also just wants to see Grantaire's face honestly.

He’s fairly certain it’s not even a practical joke because his friends are never this committed to pranks. And if it was a prank, Éponine would be taking part of it, not sitting in the corner next to Ferre, both of them doubled over laughing. Cosette is also with them, but she looks like she’s slightly guilty, but also highly amused and probably guilty for being amused.

“Hey Enjolras, if I were to rearrange the alphabet, I’d put you and I together,” Chetta says entirely sincerely, looking hopeful at him. He nearly throws a knife when he hears Cosette burst out laughing.

He takes a deep breath before responding, “I don’t have to rearrange the alphabet to put N and O together.”

Maybe that will work since reminding Musichetta that she’s in a relationship already with Joly and Bossuet isn’t working for some reason unknown to him. He’s so confused.

“You’re so good at the alphabet Enj!” Feuilly tells him as if knowing the alphabet is a viable skill in this situation.

He clenches his fists on the counter, taking a deep breath and trying to restrain himself. He wants to punch something and also just cry for a while. 

The bartender gives him a sympathetic look, “Do you want another glass of water?” he asks kindly, clearly trying to restrain his laughter.

“Is that a threat?” Bahorel shouts from behind him. 

“No Bahorel, it’s not a threat,” he sighs, putting his head on the counter. He’s tired and confused.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the bartender smiles, patting Enjolras’ arm.

“Kill me please,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. Maybe if he just falls asleep at the bar, they’ll all leave him alone.

“No, you can’t kill yourself Enj!” Joly exclaims, shoving a thermometer in his mouth again, “I’m a Doctor Enj! Killing yourself isn’t healthy!” 

_What an amazing observation._ Enjolras thinks bitterly before considering flinging himself in front of a truck.

“You’re a med student Joly,” he reminds him, taking the thermometer out of his mouth and giving it back to Joly. He gratefully accepts the glass of water from the bartender and downs it in one, wishing it was vodka. 

“You’re so amazing at knowing things about your friends!” Feuilly beams, a lovesick grin on his face.

What the fuck is going on?

“He is, isn’t he?” Courf asks, wrapping his arm around Enjolras’ shoulder, “He’s so amazing, don’t you just want to kiss him like all the time?” 

“Well this is certainly an interesting conversation to walk in on,” Grantaire announces as he walks into the bar, taking one look at his friends before snorting, “I like your new look, Apollo,” he grins as he walks over to join Éponine. At the lack of the chair, he just sits on the floor between her legs, watching his friends in amusements.

“Grantaire!” Jehan exclaims, “Have you got any flowers I can use so I can make another flower crown for Enj?” 

Oh great, even more flower crowns because that’s what this situation needs. 

To be fair to Grantaire, he makes a big show out of emptying his pockets despite how confused he looks, “Sorry Jehan, I need to stock up on flowers.”

“How do I know your flowers aren’t poisonous and that you want to kill Enjolras?” Bahorel demands, glaring at Jehan as if they had ever had any malicious thoughts at any point.

“Because I’m already wearing three of their flower crowns,” Enjolras points out, trying not to cry. He really is considering jumping in front of a bus.

“How are you so observant Enj? He’s so observant, it’s amazing!” And there was Feuilly again with all the compliments.

“He’d never forget an anniversary, would he?” Courf asks dreamily, swaying on his stool and nearly falling off it. 

Enjolras, on the other hand, just puts his head on the counter again, sighing heavily. What the fuck? He forgot his own birthday last year, Enjolras is not observant and he knows it himself.

“Enjolras?” Musichetta asks, hot on the heels of Courf.

“Yes, Chetta.” In Enjolras terms, that meant _fuck off._

“You know when you go home? Can I come with you? My Mom always told me to follow my dreams.” That was possibly the worst pickup line he’s ever heard. 

“You have two boyfriends Chetta.” 

Maybe it will work this time.

(Hopefully.)

“Enjolras, there’s this new Italian restaurant that’s opening, I was, I was uh wondering if you’d go with me to it?” And there was Marius again, stumbling over his words. 

“You should probably take your girlfriend,” he tells Marius kindly before throwing his head back on the counter.

“Do you think I should get him more flowers?” Bossuet whispers to Courf even though Enjolras is clearly in earshot of them. And Bossuet can’t whisper, everyone knows that. It’s a running joke among them for fuck's sake.

“I don’t need any more flowers, Bossuet,” he states tiredly, “Unless they have thorns so I can slit my wrists with them,” he adds afterward in a mumble. 

“I told you already Enj! It’s unhealthy to kill yourself!” Joly scolds somehow seriously, “You can’t die Enj, it would break my heart!”

“Not that this isn’t great and all, but can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Grantaire questions, looking both amused and confused. Enjolras is above sending him begging looks to help, but only slightly.

“I don’t fucking know,” Enjolras mumbles, “But it’s making me want to fling myself off a cliff.” 

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” Courf asks, looking actually confused. 

“Is something going to happen? Do I need to protect Enjolras?” Bahorel questions, standing up straight, his eyes wide. 

“Bahorel please,” he says pleadingly, trying not to cry. He’s so close, he just wants to go to bed and sleep forever.

“Éponine, what did you do?” Grantaire is laughing now as he turns to her. He knew it was her doing.

“I didn’t do anything,” she denies, but she starts laughing half way through and the entirety of her body language is screaming _I’m lying._

“She put a love potion tied with Enjolras in the drinks last night,” Cosette supplies, grinning. 

He actually does throw a knife at them when Cosette says that and it’s only because of Grantaire’s elfish reflexes that it doesn’t ruin the wall. He stares at Grantaire for a second, he’s never realized how much he appreciates Grantaire’s reflexes before. It’s also kinda hot, like everything Grantaire does.

(Which really isn’t helpful in this situation, but his dick doesn’t know that.)

“Then why aren’t you guys affected?” Grantaire asks in between laughs. His laugh is like actual music to his ear which tells him he really is in love with him.

“Because I wasn’t about to drink my own love potion and miss out on this treasure, was I? You idiot.” Éponine pauses to slap Grantaire’s head jokingly. “Cosette is his sister and my love potions don’t encourage incest and Ferre is as arro-ace as Artemis herself.”

“That makes sense,” Grantaire acknowledges. 

“I have so many more knives I want to throw at you right now,” Enjolras tells her although he’d rather just sleep at this point.

“You love me,” she grins, blowing a kiss at him with a smirk.

“Is that a magic kiss? Is that a threat?” Oh great, more protection from Bahorel.

“I swear to fucking God,” Enjolras mumbles, even closer to crying as the four of them burst out laughing again. He’s tempted to throw another knife at them.

“Wait,” Cosette murmurs, turning to Grantaire with a perplexed look on her face, “Why didn’t it affect you? You drank the most out of all of us last night,” she points out. 

“How would I know? Elves don’t make potions,” Grantaire shrugs, “Maybe the love potion doesn’t affect elves.”

“Potions affect elves, you idiot!” Éponine exclaims, proving she doesn’t have many original insults apparently.

“Not shitty ones.” Grantaire isn’t actually wrong, but he could have phrased it differently maybe.

“I should castrate you for that!” It’s an odd threat (a slightly worrying one too), but at least it’s distracted all his loved-up friends from complimenting him again or buying him more flowers.

“Right, castrate the elf,” Grantaire drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Tell me Ponine, have you ever opened an elf history book?”

“I bet Enjolras has! He’s read so many books!” Courf exclaims, swaying again. 

Oh for fuck's sake, not again.

~

Grantaire has decided that Éponine is the worst friend anyone could ever have. Not even two weeks after the Enjolras-love-potion incident, she’s decided that they needed a follow up where everyone is now in love with Grantaire. 

And he can’t even leave the Musain because he’s on shift and Gavroche is guarding the door with a smirk on his face and a cookie in his hand.

The only thing protecting him from his friend’s affections is the bar counter which means they just keep ordering more and more coffee. He’s served Courf ten times, Marius eight, Cosette four, Joly three, both Bossuet and Jehan six, Chetta (who came in half an hour after everyone and left twenty minutes after she arrived) seven, Bahorel nine, and Feuilly five. Courf doesn’t even like coffee!

The tips are ruining him too, he can’t keep their money as tips when they’re under the influence of love potions, but he has only five pockets to keep them in until he gives them back. He has nine friends and needs one pocket for his actual tips so he’s having to do actual maths. 

It’s horrible.

They’re also giving him presents. He’s a barista being given bouquets of flowers amongst other things. Bahorel gave him a boxing glove. A boxing glove.

He feels unbelievably guilty for being relieved when Feuilly and Bahorel leave, but he just can’t take it anymore. Cosette and Marius leave about twenty minutes later. 

And Éponine is just sitting in the corner snickering because she’s not a good friend, goddamn it. He’s considering taking her off the Christmas card list at this point.

Ferre takes sympathy on him when Enjolras walks in, probably because Grantaire is near tears. He’s having to do maths and avoid his friend’s advances, it's torture. Ferre takes one look at Grantaire and steps up to take Enjolras’ order. He didn't really need to do that, but he's grateful. At least he doesn't have to do as much work.

Grantaire leans on the wall behind him, trying not to look over at his friends since they keep trying to catch their eye. He hates Éponine so much.

Especially when a paper airplane hits his ear and Courf’s eyes light up as he picks it up. He unfolds it, knowing there’s going to be a message on it, he knows Courfeyrac.

“To Grantaire, will you go out with me tomorrow night? Love Courf,” he reads out in a mumble, hoping no one else can hear him.

 _Fuck off_ is his first thought and he isn’t sure who it’s aimed at. Probably Éponine, or maybe Donald Trump.

“Éponine,” he calls sweetly, “I hate you.”

“Love you too honey,” she smirks, sitting up in her seat. She’s not looking at him, she’s staring eagerly at Enjolras who is watching the exchange in confusion.

“Oh god, not you too,” he jokes, but really he wants to punch her. A lot. Like in her face and everything. 

“What’s going on?” Enjolras asks Ferre, taking his drink gratefully.

“Ponine put another love potion in our drinks last night,” Ferre explains, “This time everyone’s in love with Grantaire.”

“Ah,” Enjolras notes, not even looking surprised, “Good luck,” he tells Grantaire with a smile before leaving the Musain promptly. 

“Well?” Éponine asks eagerly. She’s sitting forward in her seat, her eyes wide with excitement and trained on his face.

“Well what?” he asks, his face scrunching up in confusion. 

“Seriously? Oh my fucking god, fuck both of you! You’re so fucking oblivious,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “I’m leaving, come find me when you figure it out, you idiot!”

~

Éponine doesn’t use any love potions after that since it clearly doesn’t work since all of her friends are idiots.

Instead, she tries to use a truth serum and get them all to play truth or dare so Enjolras and Grantaire finally realize they’re in love with each other, but Grantaire cancels last minute because he has to pick up a shift at work.

Then she tries a potion meant to make people chase everything they want, but Enjolras sends a group text about having to go to the next city over for work a few minutes after she’s given it to Grantaire and they’re too far away for it to work so Grantaire spends the day chasing pizza trucks, which is at least entertaining.

And then she legitimately just locks them in a closet together which leads to them both sleeping in the closet together because neither of them ever sleep apparently.

Her next idea involves getting a friend, Montparnasse, to take a Grantaire love potion (okay, she lied about not using any love potions, but she got his consent this time) to try to make Enjolras jealous. It works, kind of, but Enjolras just goes home and then they don’t speak about it again.

She’s a hundred percent done with her friends at this point, they’ll all idiots.

She’s at the point where she’s used every single magical thing she can to try and get them together, but they’re both so oblivious or insecure that none of it has worked. How did they manage to explain the ‘oh this person I like isn’t affected by the love potion they took’ thing without coming to the conclusion that they’re in love with each other? 

There’s no other explanation. 

(And she knows the elf thing is bullshit because she does not make shitty potions goddamn it and Montparnasse is also an elf.)

The entirety of their friends excluding the oblivious idiots are now gathering around a table, trying to figure out how to get them to stop being so oblivious and just kiss already. She’s tempted to just push their heads together.

“Are we sure that locking them in a closet isn’t going to work?” Courf asks, downing the rest of his beer again. Everyone looks tired and sad and just confused.

“I already tried it, they fell asleep,” she deadpans. How did that even happen? Who sleeps in a closet? What the fuck? 

“How about truth or dare with truth serum?” Jehan suggests, messing with the daisy chain around their wrist.

“Tried that,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.

“Plus R really hates truth or dare unless he’s drunk and he’s trying to get clean still,” Bossuet points out so they cross off that idea.

“Jealousy?” Musichetta pipes up.

“Tried that too.”

“R is too insecure about it and Enjolras has too much restraint unless you get him really angry,” Courf sighs, banging his first on his desk, “Why is this so difficult?”

“How about forcing them to share a hotel room?” Bossuet suggests.

“We’re broke college students.” 

No one tries to argue with Chetta on that. 

“How about surprise sleepover with them having to sleep next to each other?” Joly offers.

“They’ve slept next to each other about six times now and every single time they’ve ended up cuddling and they’re still fucking oblivious!” Éponine exclaims angrily.

“How about mistletoe?” 

“Courfeyrac, it’s April,” Ferre deadpans, “Plus, elves are allergic to mistletoe.”

“That’s possibly the most ironic thing about R and that’s an achievement,” Jehan murmurs.

“Okay, blind date that isn’t that blind really?” Bossuet suggests.

“Do you want Enjolras to burn you alive?” Joly questions, clearly not convinced.

“They both hate them, they’re not going to agree to it,” Ferre sighs.

“Fake boyfriend to appease parents?” Courf tries again.

“You read too much fanfiction,” Jehan tells him, rolling their eyes, “Plus they both have homophobic parents that-”

Courf interrupts before they can finish, “Fake boyfriends to annoy parents.”

“They both have homophobic parents that they don’t talk to,” Jehan repeats.

“Fake boyfriend to appease Valjean?” Marius offers, turning to Cosette who shook her head.

“Valjean won’t be back from France for another few months and he hates Skype,” she explains, “And he doesn’t care about who we date as long as it’s legal and we’re happy.”

“Force them to watch romance movies together or some shit,” Bahorel mumbles. 

“What? So they can get into a debate about the deeper meaning or something?” Courf asks, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe they’ll kiss in the middle of the heated debate,” Éponine snorts.

“Oh god no,” Jehan cries, “They’ll pull away and one of them will panic, apologize and run away and the other won’t know what to do and they’ll probably decide to forget about it,” they explain.

“The saddest thing about that is that it would actually happen,” Ferre sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“Okay, you know what?” Courf starts, standing up, “We’re going to all work together and make the strongest fucking love potions ever and then we’re going to force them to drink them and explain it to them as explicitly as we can. I will fucking source research papers on this shit. Bahorel and Musichetta will guard the exits so they can’t leave.”

“Sure, why not?” 

So they spend the entire night slaving over two cauldrons, working in between four laptops and two tablets looking for the best way to make them. It’s ludicrous and tiring and they all fall asleep around two am, but in the morning, they have some of the strongest love potions ever. 

(Éponine is pretty certain that they're actually illegally strong, but neither of the potions is going to work anyway since the oblivious idiots are in love with each other.)

Courf sends a ‘group’ text to meet at the Musain at ten so the two of them will be there when they get there. They also print a whole lot of shit about love potions and all the different research on it in case they (Enjolras) don’t believe them.

They manage to sneak into the Musain without them noticing, partly due to Jehan being a fairy and being able to do a vanishing spell, but mostly because the two of them are locked in a heated debate. They position Bahorel and Feuilly at one exit and Musichetta and Bossuet at the other one. And then they all move to the corner booth apart from Éponine and Ferre who are both holding one of the love potions. 

Éponine slams hers down in front of Grantaire while Ferre places his in front of Enjolras gently. The two of them still jump at it though.

“Hello?” Enjolras asks, his eyebrows scrunching up.

“Yes, hello, whatever.” She brushes past the greeting, not caring enough about it. “You two are complete idiots and I’m going to prove it,” she tells them.

“Right,” Grantaire says, sounding skeptical, “And how are you going to do that?”

“These-” She gestures to the two glasses. “-are love potions.”

“I thought we agreed no more love potions,” Enjolras sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Anyway, you two are idiots who apparently can’t use logic. Tell me, if I give someone a love potion for their friend, but their behavior doesn’t change, what does that mean?” she questions, trying her hardest to keep her voice down.

“That it didn’t work.” Grantaire is a little shit and he knows it and Éponine hates him for it.

“Well done Captain Obvious,” she snorts, “If it didn’t work, what does that mean?”

“If the potion was a well-made potion,” Ferre interjects before Grantaire can open his mouth. 

“That they’re in love with their friend, can we get to the point?” Enjolras asks, arching an eyebrow.

“That is the point you motherfucking idiots,” she growls under her breath, “Take the drinks before I castrate you.”

She wasn’t sure why castration was her go-to threat, but it seemed to work as they both, albeit reluctantly, drank the potions. 

“Now those are well-made love potions, we have sources and studies of them printed out,” Ferre explains, confusing the two of them even more. 

“How do you two feel?” she asks after he finishes, her voice determined.

“No different,” Enjolras responds and Grantaire shrugs. They were so oblivious, it was actually painful.

“Enjolras, you just drank a Grantaire-oriented love potion for the second time. Grantaire, you just drank an Enjolras-oriented love potion for the second time. Neither of you have been affected either time. Please, you’re both smart enough to figure it out,” Ferre pleads, staring at the two of them desperately.

“Yeah, I love him duh.” Enjolras rolls his eyes as if it isn’t some amazing fucking revelation.

“And I love him back,” Grantaire adds, holding Enjolras’ hand, “We’ve been dating for six months.”

“What?” 

“What the fuck?”

“Pardon?” 

“Wait, what?”

“Shit, fuck, what?”

“What? When? How?”

“What the shit?”

“What?”

“The fuck?”

“Wait.”

“Fucking hell guys, you could have told us.”

It’s an interesting arrangement of responses from around the bar. The bartender seems to be losing his shit, doubled over with laughter.

“When did this happen?” Courf demands, literally running over to the table.

“Six months ago like I literally just said.” It was Grantaie’s turn to roll his eyes now.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jehan asks which is a very fair question that they really need a fucking answer to.

“Because you’ve spent the last six months telling us we’re oblivious idiots and we wanted to see how long it would take you guys to realize you’re all oblivious idiots,” Enjolras smirks. He’s looking towards all of them, but it’s obvious that his attention on Grantaire who leans across the table to kiss his cheek.

“I hate you all!” Éponine announces, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically.

“Eh, he loves me,” Grantaire shrugs, gesturing to Enjolras. 

“That I do,” Enjolras adds, leaning across the table to kiss Grantaire gently. Éponine had no idea how they kept it a secret considering that in the two minutes they’ve known, the two of them have had two separate PDA moments.

“I still can’t believe you guys thought love potions were the way to convince us we were in love,” Grantaire laughs once they’ve pulled apart, “Fucking love potions.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
>  
> 
> come scream with me on [tumblr](https://island-of-asteria.tumblr.com/)


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